


Adze

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [24]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Unreliable Narrator, creepy cowled people, post-revolution Citadel is a complicated place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5023474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adze: A thin blade mounted perpendicular to the handle on an ice axe that can be used for chopping footholds</p><p>  <i>They were trying to keep her safe, shield her from anybody who might want to stick a knife between her ribs and finish the job. She just… didn't want to be safe. Not when the sisters weren't, not when the Vuvalini weren't. Not when her crew wasn't.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Adze

"Good morning," Janey greeted Ace when he came up to the sentry post at the top of the Southern tower. She gave him a searching look while he caught his breath. When he'd first come up here the morning after that Wastelander left, he'd expected her to protest - it was before Miss Gale had said he should leave Furiosa's quarters.

She'd just shrugged, and said that he looked like a sensible man who knew his limits.

"Morning," he hummed, when he no longer had to work for air. The sentry reported nothing on the horizon, and Ace nodded.

They strolled together to the next post.

"How are things this morning? Our Furiosa any more sweet tempered?"

Ace's breath caught at the idea that he had any claim on the Boss. He couldn't read Janey's tone well enough yet to tell if it was sarcastic, or a taunt.

They shared a glance, and Ace shook his head hesitantly. Furiosa had just gone distant after collecting them all in her quarters after Kompass had come to get them all, urgency in his voice and deeper than normal frown on his face.

Moreover she had become more insistent on getting out of her enforced bedrest and doing _something._  But although she was recovered from her fever and getting stronger and more energetic by the day, her injuries were nowhere near healed enough for her to move around as long or as much as she wanted. It was a bad combination of frustration, and feeling vulnerable and out of the loop that was familiar to all war boys on the mend, but heightened by the alarm caused by the threat of the Soundless.

It was suddenly round after round of questions of the state of the Citadel, insistence on everyone travelling in pairs, requests for more weapons in her room. And she started talking about being properly armed. Rett had brought her more parts, and she had a crude but functional arm put together, but she wasn't exactly a pleasure to be around.

"Furiosa feels cut off.” He stumbles just the slightest on her name. The Vuvalini’s sharp eyes dart to him, “I know you all didn't want to bother her while she was healing especially those first couple days, but I reckon the not-knowing makes her feel vulnerable. I know we all try to keep her updated, but…" Ace shrugged.

"Yes, I suppose under Joe it was vital to always know what was going on," Janey mused. "I will see this morning if we can move some of the council meetings to her quarters."

Ace nodded, and they inspected the cranes and what had been done to make sure they'd be functional during the attack they knew was coming. She made some suggestions and they’re ones that he would have made, and it made Ace feel more and more replaceable. A few days, at most, before the war parties round the mountain range. Ace could only hope that the Wastelander would be back before then. He had to be a good fighter, but more than that, Furiosa didn't just brush him aside if she had some plan in her stubborn head. Listened to him. Between the two of them they had a hope in hell of keeping her in one piece, because he knew there was no way to keep her completely out of War.

"Ace!" Rachet came pelting up to him and Janey.

"What is it?"

"The Boss," Rachet panted. "She's got up, she's on her way to the council room. We did as you told us, but she wouldn't be stopped."

Ace glanced at Janey, who mostly looked amused. Ace, Max and Miss Gale were more or less the only ones who could make her change course. Perhaps Janey could too, but she hadn't bothered so far. Janey seemed to be more on the side of 'that's my girl' than 'you should not be doing that'.

"Don't look at me," Janey said. "I reckon the more you coddle her, the more she's gonna try an' dodge you."

Ace nodded, resigned.

"Just stay near, make sure she sits down when she needs to," he told Rachet. "We'll come down that way soon too."

As Rachet left, Janey shaded her eyes with her hand and hummed, looking to the East. Ace followed her gaze and saw the distant dust plume. By unspoken agreement they went over to the lookout post to use the looking glass.

"Three cars," Janey said. Her eyes were keener than Ace's. "Drivin' real slow. Think it might be our boy Fool."

 

* * *

 

Furiosa leaned back in the low chair and tried not to look as out of breath as she felt. Kompass was giving her worried looks from the doorway, unhappy she'd told him off for 'fussing'. It hadn't been fair, but she didn't know how to explain.

They were trying to keep her safe, shield her from anybody who might want to stick a knife between her ribs and finish the job. She just… didn't want to be safe. Not when the sisters weren't, not when the Vuvalini weren't. Not when her crew wasn't.

Plus, she could feel herself slowly going out of her mind with boredom and frustration and tension. Even though she was hurting and out of breath from the walk up here, it felt good to _do_ something.  And to see and hear things for herself.

Until now, the idea that the Citadel was a different place post-Joe had been theoretical. She'd tried to picture it, in her lucid moments between fever and drugs and exhaustion, but hadn't known what to imagine. Now she had seen some of the changes for herself. The warpups in all the colours of the desert sands, the breeders walking around in twos and threes, exploring the Citadel like they have never been able to before. Someone had started a wall painting up near Joe's old quarters.

It wasn't anything Furiosa could have imagined seeing here, hallways and corridors she had only known having walked down, tense and guardedly, bracing herself for meeting the Immortan. It felt strange and dreamlike. Uncanny with both how familiar it was, and yet one step to the right of what she remembered. They were _good_ changes and while she was proud of everyone for working together to enact them in her absence, she did not see them happen for herself and Furiosa kept on expecting to wake up, heart pounding, or to come up against some disaster.

Then again, bringing up the Soundless to the Council may end up being one.

She met Kompass's eyes and cut her gaze over to the chair next to her. He hesitated for a long moment, and then came over to take the seat. She had no intention of talking over them. Or of taking over the Council roles that he and Ace clearly filled in during her absence; many things lately have shown her that despite their well-meaning efforts to keep her in the loop, Furiosa didn’t really know what was happening with either her crew or the Citadel. It was true that Furiosa knew how to pretend knowledge, to fake power, to assume authority; she’d had to as raiding leader and later as Imperator. She’d learned how watching Joe strut his falseness in order to command the men that inhabited this place.

But Joe was dead. Furiosa shouldn’t need any of that anymore; those girls who talked of worth and philosophy and poetry over tea were implementing those ideas with barely any input from her, those experienced Vuvalini who had survived left their mark as well, guiding and protecting. Furiosa knew this from what they told her during her bedrest, from how the pups at her door spoke of them when they thought she wasn’t listening, from what she saw on the walk today. They didn’t need her. They didn’t need her pretending to know something when she didn’t.

She thought Ace would come to the council, but she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything regarding Ace. After she'd woken, half delirious, to find him taking care of her she'd thought maybe there was a chance she could still have... have his companionship, his friendship. His weight against her back as she slept, keeping her safe, guarding her six. But the last few days he'd stayed well out of her reach, sleeping on the other side of the room, always gone when she woke. He wouldn't touch her, made it a point to avoid contact, and it made the movements around them stilted and cautious, and that—

That especially at a time when she needed all her crew around her, with war parties incoming and dissent forming from within—

She swallowed away her hurt to face this new sandstorm of theirs. She couldn't expect to betray a man such as Ace and have him shrug and still be the same. She'd betrayed him more than the others, spoke lies to him more directly, the deep fear churning low in her gut making it impossible to trust him fully. She'd lied to him, hurt him and left him to die, and he didn't owe her anything. If he wanted his distance, she would try to respect it.

Slowly the council members began to come into the room, and Furiosa was soon busy being greeted, being welcomed as if they had been waiting for her all along. There were milking mothers, one of whom was cradling a baby who looked like it had been in need of the extra care. There was a woman from the breeders court. A representative from the Wretched. People representing various parts of the Citadel, the gardens, the repair boys, the cook staff, the inventory, and so on.

Her crew had been adamant that 'Miss Gale' wouldn't want her to come all the way to the council yet, would in fact send her back to her room on a stretcher, but Gale only smiled when she saw Furiosa and came over to touch their foreheads together. Then the Vuvalini sat down next to her, no doubt to keep an eye out for any signs of exhaustion.

That left Ace looking for a free spot elsewhere in the circle, and Furiosa bit back her grimace.

The sisters greeted her with pleasure, but Furiosa was glad to see that they at least seemed to have no intention of suddenly giving her any more control. The Citadel’s workings she had knowledge of... needed to change. Plus, they seemed to have things well in hand. She only spoke briefly when the expected siege came up, and then ceded the word to Ace, who was more up to date on the defence situation.  

A runner came in to report that the convoy from the canyon had been positively identified, and was expected in an hour or so. A frisson of excitement ran through the room. Max had been sent out for salvage, but if he was returning with three cars he'd obviously found more than things alone.

"We asked Max to look for your arm, too."

"I hope it's scrap," Dag said idly. "Mangled beyond help."

"What?" Furiosa asked.

"Why would you hope that something that helps Furiosa—?"

"It was a symbol of Joe and his machine cult," Dag said in a sing-song voice. "His evil was all over it. Even if it isn't scrap, Max should just leave it in the desert."

Furiosa looked down at the arm she'd cobbled together in the last few days, little more than a fancy hook. It didn't have a tenth of the function and articulation of her old one, which she had spent years perfecting.

She hadn’t wanted to perpetuate any of what she’d learned to survive Joe, had been thinking even before the Council started that she’d wanted to step back and just listen; but what if she was, even with her best intentions, _still bringing Joe here_...

She thought about Afterburn. Felt the phantom sensation of that final blow travelling up her arm.

Maybe Dag was right. She'd done a lot of evil with that arm. And not just with the arm, maybe _all_ of her was a symbol of Joe and his evil. Joe wasn't just in her arm, he was in her _head_. He'd _made_ her, from the parts of her remaining after being ripped from mothers and home and everything sane. She hadn’t even thought of the women as more than Things that she could steal from Joe when she’d packed them away with the produce. She'd given more thought to how angry he'd be to have his treasures stolen than to their freedom. Hadn’t learned their names except by overhearing them talking to each other and to the Many Mothers.

She was the Immortan's last Imperator. A leftover from a system that was broken and that they were trying their best to leave behind. She didn't know if she was equipped for this new Citadel.

Maybe they should have left _her_ in the desert.

"Nonsense," Janey said sharply, "It wasn't a symbol of Joe, it was a thing Furiosa made to help her function. Doesn't make the thing, or the using of it, evil, just because she made it when none of you could escape that Joe."

Dag’s face screwed up in anger, "His spirit was all over it. It's _tainted_."

"If it is, so am I," Ace said in a low voice, looking around the circle. _So are you_ , he didn't say, but it seemed like everybody heard it anyway.

"And I expect you'll be making a big pyre of all those books you have, then," Gale said softly. "Since Joe gave them to you."

Dag looked to the sisters for help, but Capable shook her head.

"Something, or—" the redhead glanced at Ace, "some _one_ , is not lost because they came from Joe. If he didn't ruin _us_ forever, he didn't ruin anything or anyone else forever, either."

Furiosa wasn't aware she was shaking until Kompass shifted slightly, his shoulder surreptitiously brushing against hers. She leaned into the touch, needing the contact to steady her. She wished Ace was on her other side, wished for the familiar bulk of him close. It took a long time to stop trembling, and she let the voices of the others float by her, concentrating on breathing slow and controlled.

 

* * *

 

"Now there's another issue needs talkin' about. A group of people we— or at least some of us—" Janey said, startling Furiosa to attention, "didn't know about."

She could feel Kompass tense up, still not completely reassured he wasn't about to get punished for his initiative. Furiosa could see some of others in the Council visibly cringe back, because the punishment for speaking of the Soundless if you weren’t suppose to know of them was severe.

But Furiosa had a realization when she woke up: Joe was dead, and The Soundless needed her alive.

That she killed Joe may well be considered a match where she ‘won’ his stuff, so out of habit at least parts of the Citadel may be looking towards her for leadership.

“People don’t talk about The Soundless,” Furiosa spoke up, ignoring the gasps and the nervous shifting of some of those around the Council, a few heads turning around in curiosity. “But that’s because they tend to kill those they don’t want knowing of them. And those who talk about them carelessly.”

She saw Cheedo take in who'd evidently already known about them, Toast narrowing her eyes in thought, Dag biting at her lip as she read the fear off the faces.

“Like you’re doing now?” Britt said sharply, holding the infant protectively close.

“I realized when I woke up that it doesn’t matter anymore if they’re known, because Joe’s dead.”

“What does that have anything to do with The Soundless, they doing a power grab? Want control of the Citadel for themselves?”

Furiosa shook her head, not willing to speak of her suspicions outloud, “It’s more simple than that.”

“How?” A chorus of voices rose up and it nearly hid the flutter of cloth as two robed figures settled to a stop just inside the window.

There was a soft murmur of surprised voices and intakes of breath.

“Well, Archive?” Furiosa asked the taller one, “Will you tell them?”

Deka stood up but Archive just waved her back down, and lifted black gloved hands up to the edges of the deep hood.

“You know my name, girl.”

And Furiosa sensed the ripple of surprise roll across the room because not only was this the first time most in the room had heard The Soundless speak but—

But.

The voice… it was that of a—

The tall old woman shook her hair free of the hood, almond eyes squinting at the various people in the room, “I should maim you all simply for not inviting me.”

“Feng,” Furiosa said sharply, “they could not have known.”

" _You_ did."

Furiosa gave her a level look, “because you cornered me by threatening my crew.”

“You always did get more clever when backed to a corner,” Feng waved a bony hand as if dispelling the thought. “It’s why I’d always wanted you with us. I like your fire; I would have made you truly _terrifying_ , if you’d but accepted the apprenticeship.”

Apprentice, lowering her hood as well, grimaced a little but hid the expression swiftly.

"I preferred to take my chances as a War boy. I’ve seen your idea of _mercy._ " Furiosa couldn't even think of the full story of it, mind a blank rage.

“I think you’ve taken on those same ideas, have you not? I’ve seen you discard your rundown war boys and those you didn’t need any longer.” Feng spread her fingers, “Not that I blame you: they are many and cheap. We’re all just trying to work with what the wasteland gave us.”

Furiosa found her throat sanded at those words, memories of giving Afterburn a chance to be witnessed, of those members she found irredeemable, and of the crew that she’d used as protection in her escape from Joe. She could not argue against the Archive because she used and pruned and discarded her crew, just to survive. And she knew that they were looking at her now, waiting for her next words and the weight of their gaze made her mute.

“War boys are not _cheap_ ,” Capable said, startling all eyes towards her.

“And now they aren’t many,” Toast added, “Everyone has worth when we’re so few.”

“Even when you’re not so few,” Gale opinioned, “Even when the Green Place was thriving, it didn’t match the numbers of the Old World, and even then... The one thing you couldn’t replace was time.”

“And they are _half_ -lives, what are their time even counted in? Days?” Feng sneered. "But I suppose they have been Useful to you," she said to Furiosa. "It must have been worth the sacrifice."

"It's no sacrifice to be with my crew. They _saved_ me," she said, glancing at Ace, at Kompass.

“The one who bartered for my support isn’t even here,” Feng pointed out. “What is his worth if he isn’t even—”

“ _She kept him from coming_ ,” Kompass interrupted, his jaw clenched. “She tries to save us, too, even from things we don't know are dangers.” He glanced down at himself, paintless even though he hated it. “You may be The Soundless, but you don’t know the Boss. There was no ‘discarding’, if we threw ourselves into anything…” his eyes shifted in memory and refocused, “we did it gladly.”

“You have them so well trained,” Feng simply said to her admiringly.

“Who are you to—”

" _Forward_ ," said Many sharply. "Let's move _forward_. You're raising my Aurotaenia, I have no wish to war with you. Are you coming here to ally with us? What are your resources? I’m guessing you’re coming forward now because Joe’s dead and not spendin’ so much on pretending you don’t exist?"

"Your daughter didn't die?" Dag asked her sharply, having asked of names to give a baby that didn’t come from anything Joe-touched.

“Said ‘she’s gone’,” Many pointed out, “didn’t say where. You've never wondered why there are so many more war pups than girls?"

"I tried not to think about it, feared their deaths to be honest."

"Wait, Joe knew about the Soundless?"

Feng laughed, sharp and ugly. “Tried to root us out often enough, but look how that worked out for him. We’ve made ourselves necessary but his pride needed us to be hidden.”

“But _why_?”

“Because Joe discarded his wives, once we get too old or had three ‘failures’,” Feng spat, “Three births that aren’t a healthy son. Where did you think all those wives and daughters went, if not to the Wretched or the Milkers or the Mill Rats?”

“So that’s where the food and water’s gone missing,” Toast murmured. “And not all of Joe’s wives would have died being thrown to the Wastes, or working on the Mill; the numbers of the Milking Mothers never matched up to the numbers of wives who’d been discarded, or their infants.”

“I’d thought you might’ve been a sharp one, we would have taken you in, if it had come to that,” Feng continued musing, as if Toast’d not spoken, “but it’s hard with you having said so little. That Angharad could go on, didn’t she? All those idealistic ideas that could never pan out. Though I suppose Johanna did good in encouraging her to set things in motion."

“Angharad's words had the truth of it,” Capable interrupted. “We would not be here if it were not for our allies.”

"You would not be here if not for _us_ ," Feng said sharply. "How do you think you made it to the garage unseen, that night? I thought it was a foolish plan, some mythical green place, but Johanna agreed to shoot Joe's miserable head off, so we took the chance."

The sisters met each other's gaze.

"Then she lost her nerve, the silly goat. Always more eager to talk than to do. Fat lot of good it did her, now she's dead."

Feng's voice didn't quite seem to hit the scorn she seemed to have meant.

"You knew Miss Giddy?" Capable said softly.

"Yes," Feng said sharply, as if she realised she'd showed more than she'd intended. "Yes, I knew her." She spoke quickly, angrily, onwards, “And your allies were pure _luck_. Not everyone you find would be so kind. Right now is the time when you need to implement new laws, to curb those who would take advantage of you, and you would do well to rule firmly and wisely instead of with well-meaning ideas that will only cost you in the end.”

"I think they are doing well enough without your advice,” Furiosa interrupted.

“They are _children_ , they’ve barely lived anything, and will need our experience. They don’t know how the Wasteland works.”

“I think you mean to rule, not to give advice,” Janey spoke up.

“I know and read and listened the histories of this Wasteland and the Old World that existed before that, I am called the Archive amongst the Soundless for a _reason_ , newcomer, and it’s because I Remember.” Feng drew herself up,

“But you’ve never lived outside—

“But we’re trying to change the past—

“We’re following Angharad’s blueprint—

“ _I know what works here_ ,” Feng spoke over them all, voice rising, “in this Citadel, from many long years, and what works is _fear_. And what is feared is death in all its forms, so you must be willing to deal it.”

“And then you call it _mercy_ ,” Furiosa murmured.

Feng laughed bitterly, “No, I call it making the hard decision. I call it leadership. I call it not being childish and petty.”

“She could have _lived,_ with a bit of care. She was strong." Furiosa found herself saying.

"Still on that I see.”

Furiosa sat quietly, trying to swallow the white, blank rage.

"Boss?" Kompass murmured, brushing his shoulder against hers.

"Yes. ‘Still on’ _how you let my mother die_. How petty of me."

“It wasn’t safe to retrieve her for healing, I’ve told you that.”

“I’ve seen the way the Soundless move, the things you could heal—”

“Child,” Feng interrupted, “you have no idea of the knowledge and the planning that goes into those efforts, or of the number of women and children I am protecting. I _refuse_ to risk their safety for that of a person that I have not known. Especially not one who would have upset everything we'd built just to get you out of the Vault.”

Furiosa hunched in on herself a little as the people around her gasped and murmured.

“Let’s turn that question around: How many people have _you_ killed just for _your_ own safety, mm?” Feng stared at her, sharp-eyed. "How many have you let die? And do you know how to deal with it yet? Because I have. If you would only let me advise you—"

"At least _I_ know I'm not the person who should be leading here," Furiosa said to the ground. Raised her eyes and tried not to let her mouth shake, “What you call me... Either I’ve led my crew as Imperator and I’ve raided and killed to make my way there and _survive_... Or I’m a ‘child’. I cannot be both.”

Supportive noises sounded from the sisters and Kompass and some of the Council while others started talking rapidly with their neighbors. Furiosa chanced a glance at Gale who’d sat next to her, but the Vuvalini’s eyes were wide and Furiosa wouldn’t be surprised if it was in accusation and she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it was there or hoping that she didn’t see it.

A warpup came in, looked around skittishly for a moment, and then his eyes found Cheedo. He edged up to her and bent down to speak closely to her ear. She nodded, offered him some of her water, and then sent him back out.

"The three vehicles are coming up to the inner range," she spoke up, breaking into the noise. "The lookouts report at least ten people, some women. They'll be here soon. I'm going to welcome them."

Kompass glanced at Ace and jolted to his feet, “Not alone.”

“I’m coming with you,” Dag agreed, glancing at the war boy. Janey simply got up silently, checking her rifle.

Ace was already at the window looking downwards. “Might want more than just you four at the lift, I see some white bodies but also some yellow. Not quite sure that’s a good thing.”

“Might be a bit of an ambush,” Janey agreed. “Or a hostage situation.”

“Apprentice.” Feng said sharply.

“I’ll have the others on standby,” the woman said, and slipped out the window with a few quick steps.

“Let’s go see what that feral has brought on our heads,” the Archive muttered as she raised her hood and nodded at those still in the room. “We’ll meet you down there. Well, probably not you, Furiosa. That gut wound still needs some looking after.” And then slipped out too.

Furiosa tried to get up from her low chair and hissed. She looked imploringly at Ace, but he just tilted his head. She tried again, got no further this time, and sank back, defeated.

A swirl of well-wishes was chorused at her, some with acknowledging nods, some with pats to her shoulder, and then everybody streamed out, leaving her alone in the council room with Ace.

Furiosa just looked at this man that she had almost killed, during the escape. Found herself glad that she failed.

She didn’t know what to say to him.

Ace looked back at her. Waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> Feng = wind/crazy/mad in Chinese. 
> 
> Brought to you by everything that toxic masculinity fears and keeps secret; the criminalization/fear of women taking control of their own bodies and agency, the monstrous feminine.


End file.
